Title: Thirteenth Times a Charm
Author: aquaxeyes
Rating: K+ to T, no reason (yet)
Full Description: 3 words. 13 attempts. Just how many times can Clark put his heart on the line without Chloe getting it? AU. Chlark and some Chlollie.

Author's Notes: This is my first Smallville fic, so I'm very excited to post this! It's about how Clark realizes he loves Chloe and wants to tell her, but either gets interrupted or doesn't get the technique of saying it quite right. Some are dramatic, some are funny, or at least I think they're funny (which may or may not mean anything). And before I offend people who like other pairings, I did mention Lana in here but not to compare her with Chloe or make her seem better/worse. Just trying to explain where Clark is coming from.

This short story series is inspired from the fact that we've had two Friday the 13th's in a row. And I really couldn't think of anything to write for my other stories, so this is my aside project. Basically, I will be updating every single day until the 13th, when the story will reach its conclusion. At least that's the plan. Thanks.

Oh, p.s. the titles have season/episode information in parentheses as a timeline reference.

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the story.

The First Time. (Season 5, post-Thirst)

They had been friends for years. He had every curve of her face memorized, knew every expression. He knew things about her that no one did, and she him. She accepted him for all that he was. When he felt like he wasn't strong enough, when the world was too hard to save, she was the proverbial light at the end of the long, dark tunnel. She gave him hope, made him feel like he was as strong on the inside as he was outside. Truly, she was part of his identity, his purpose for fighting for the greater good.

He was in love with her, and they had been friends for years.

Clark watched as she strolled across the room, coffee mug in hand, comfortable in the Talon's familiarity. It was a busy Saturday night. The place was packed, but it didn't matter. To him, she was the only one in the room. She beamed one of those genuinely sweet smiles--she had an arsenal of them--at one of the baristas but kept moving, drawing closer to him. Finally, she took a seat in a couch adjacent to his. Her eyes swept over him in a nonchalant onceover. "You look antsy."

He lifted an eyebrow, surprised that she could tell. "Antsy?"

"More like a temperamental bull on speed. Something wrong?"

"No," he said quickly. Too quickly as he saw her eyebrow rise, mirroring his surprise a moment ago.

"Okay, what aren't you telling me? And spare me the Kent charm; I'm completely immune due to overexposure over the years."

He stared at her curious, slightly amused face and almost every nerve in his body fired up. Man, did he want to tell her. Ever since she'd been on the verge of death because of a vampire-like disease, he'd wanted to tell her. It was hard not to remember the soft plea she whispered as she was being infected, the look on her face when she woke up. Everything came back into play. Feelings he thought he had buried. Feelings she might still have for him. The way everything would end up easily working out with her by his side. The more he thought about these things, the faster said thoughts took over his mind.

That's when what Chloe Sullivan meant to Clark Kent became complicated. After all, Chloe was part of his support system. She knew his secret and she still chose to be in his life. More, she put herself on the line time and again to help him and his crusade for justice, no matter what it cost her. She always picked up the phone anytime he called. When she wasn't around, he felt dysfunctional, like he was missing something. Their friendship meant a lot to him, which meant his developing feelings were a potential threat. Would he risk telling Chloe how he felt if their friendship was at stake? Though she took his alien identity well, she could very well walk away from him. He couldn't stand for that to happen.

There was also Lana Lang, his long-time neighbor, high school crush and off-and-on girlfriend, to consider. Lana had been one of the earlier loves of his life, the mysterious raven-haired cheerleader with old soul eyes. He daydreamed about her, he pined after her for so long. The time they'd spent together was short and incredibly sweet. What they had had wasn't something he could just get over. If Chloe didn't walk away after he indulged his latest secret, would she be fine with knowing Lana still occasionally crossed his mind?

That morning, when he woke up and sped through his chores, he took a seat and decided to look at the facts.

Fact: He and Lana were over.

Fact: It was his choice, and he chose not to clue her in on his secret partially to protect her and partially to protect himself.

Fact: Chloe wasn't digging around for his secret when it was shoved in her face.

Fact: Chloe didn't tell a soul, not even him, for months.

Fact: He couldn't have accomplished half the things he had done without her.

Fact: He'd always had feelings for Chloe, but he put them in the backburner because, as awful as it sounded, he knew she'd always be there, loyal to him to the end.

Once he narrowed these facts down, it was pretty simple. Clark considered himself a matured young man, one who had learned about sacrifice, loyalty, love and justice over the years. The truth was that he trusted Chloe to be himself around her, randomly erupting heat vision and all. He didn't have to hold back; his first instinct was always to confide in her. He couldn't say the same for Lana--she was just too unpredictable, and a nagging voice inside his head always kept him from telling her anything. Now that he had dabbled in fresh-eyed puppy love, he realized he wanted the real deal, all or nothing. He wanted sacrifice, he wanted unwavering loyalty, he wanted that long-suffering love and the same desire for justice. He wanted Chloe.

It took him twelve hours to practice the right words. And now, with her staring at him like that, her skinny, no-foam almond latte all but forgotten, he couldn't help but feel an imaginary spotlight shining on him as he struggled to remember them.

Her mouth curved up in a curious smile, encouraging him to say it.

"I love you, Chloe."

As fate would have it, the mixture of the Saturday night crowd, milk constantly being steamed, and baristas calling out to-go orders drowned out his soft-spoken confession.

Her eyes were blank and she furrowed her brows in confusion. "What?"

Clark took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. It was bad enough saying it aloud to her once, but she didn't hear it? She needed him to repeat it? He felt his face flood with warmth and forced the urge to set something aflame with his eyes down. Louder. He only needed to say it louder. He cleared his throat--it had suddenly gone dry. "I.. I love.."

Chloe shook her head and scooted closer to the edge of her seat. Moving in closer. "You're going to have to speak up, Clark. Not all of us have superhuman hearing, you know."

"Oh." For a few more seconds, his heart was still racing, adrenaline taking him higher and higher until he reached that point. Fight or flight. He could tell Chloe now and risk their friendship or lie and say it was nothing and in turn risk nothing. To his dismay, he felt his heartbeat skip, then slow down ever so marginally. So much for his morning debate being over the toughest choice he had to make. He'd been sure he could say it without his guts turning into mush. Instead, he found himself nodding at her and saying, "You have a piece of hair on your face."

Chloe pulled back reflexively and tucked the piece he was talking about behind her ear. Then, she mock-glared. "My imperfections bother you that much?"

He gave a helpless smile, which he was sure came off as a smirk since he could barely feel his face.

Next time, he vowed, he would raise the decibels.

( In his second attempt, Clark tries to spill the beans in the middle of a conversation. Oh, how well that will work out--haha. )